


I love you, brother.

by LEDGeneralPurposeLightbulb



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, Some sweet moments, Toby Smith | Tubbo and Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, but tubbo is more of an adopted brother, every interaction is platonic, this is not a ship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LEDGeneralPurposeLightbulb/pseuds/LEDGeneralPurposeLightbulb
Summary: Wilbur and Tommy talk about their dad.
Relationships: NONE.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	I love you, brother.

“Dad…” 

Philza slept, hard and unmoving in his chair by the fireplace. Everytime he came back from a hunting trip with Technoblade he laid down in that same spot and didn’t get up for the rest of the day. This usually didn’t bother Tommy, he had things to do in his room, or he’d play with Tubbo, if he was allowed to come over. But this time was different.

This time, Tommy stood in the doorway of the living room, silhouetted by the soft torch light that seeped from the hallway, clutching his right hand. Hot, thick blood poured from the gash cutting deep through his palm, effectively staining his cotton shirt. 

“Dad, please…” Black fuzziness started to invade the edges of his vision. The only thing that prevented him from crying out was the dilemma of all children; why was waking a parent so terrifying? He couldn’t even bring himself to raise his voice above a whisper, maybe if he was able to  _ “accidentally”  _ wake Philza up would make it less awkward,

Just standing there wasn’t working, and Tommy was starting to feel like he might pass out; had it really been that bad? 

The memory from the other day drifted across his spacey mind, reminding him of the small child standing outside and shouting an apology for hitting a ball through Tommy’s bedroom window.

_ “You little PRICK, come back and fix my goddamn window!”  _ Tommy had screamed, but the short, dark haired boy had already retreated into the woods as quickly as possible.

He’d told his father of course, and of course, his father told him that he was busy and to fix it himself. 

That’s what the 14 year old Tommy had been doing when he slipped, the shards of glass still stuck to his window frame cutting dangerously deep through his palm. 

A sick feeling gripped at his stomach as the room began to spin dangerously fast. Distantly, he hoped that he’d never have to feel this way again, and then he dropped to the floor. 

~~~

_ “You’re gonna have to deal with it.”  _

_ “But I-”  _

_ “What, you care about…”  _

_ “... well just… _

_... never there …” _

~~~

Soft light shone through Tommy’s eyelids, the skin glowing a non intrusive red. A plush blanket was grazing the exposed parts of his arms and legs, and an extremely comfortable pillow cushioned his head. 

When was the last time he’d felt this comfortable? 

There was also a low hum, a smooth song drifting through the room, meshing beautifully with the distant sound of birds chirping outside, and the occasional gust of wind rustling the trees and the tall grass. A soft smile pulled at Tommy’s face; he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but he recognized the low humming, and the hands gently messing with Tommy’s hurt one. 

He let one of his eyes slip open very slowly, not wanting him to see that he was awake just yet. 

His eyes fell on the long fingers moving around with a sort of frantic grace. Wilbur was always like this. It was as if he had all and none of the time in the world simultaneously. 

Cool, morning air drifted into the room through an open window Tommy could just barely see through his slightly cracked eye, but he followed the wispy sound of the breeze until it moved Wilbur’s fluffy hair ever so slightly across his forehead. His eye brows were furrowed in concentration, causing wrinkles to form between them, but the rest of his features were soft.

Tommy knew his brother startled easily, so he moved very slowly and closed his eye, a quiet grunt moving out of his throat as he pretended to have just woken up. He stretched out his legs, marvelling at the fact that his feet didn’t dangle over the edge of the bed like they did in his own. 

“Well good morning to you, big man.” Wilbur almost whispered, setting Tommy’s hand down on the bed next to him. The younger boy felt something lightly squeezing it and looked down to see a white bandage wrapped tightly around his palm.

“Good morning to you too, Wilby.” Tommy’s voice strained slightly while he raised his arms above his head to stretch his back and shoulders, a satisfying series of pops following through all the way to his wrists. 

“I was worried about you, y’know.” Wilbur said quietly. Tommy looked at him and saw the sad look in his older brother's dark eyes. “You could have asked me to help you with the window.” 

“But I ask you to help me with everything.” Tommy explained, trying his hardest but failing to keep the frustration from slowly seeping into his voice. “You always have to deal with everything.”

“I know but…” 

Wilbur trailed off as Tommy just sighed. 

“Dad makes you do everything.” He whispered. The gentle throbbing in the palm of his hand and the bandage that Wilbur tied himself served as a glaring reminder of that. Hell, the fact that they were sitting here with Tommy’s hand slowly healing between them in the first place was reminder enough.

“I like to think he’s just too tired, most of the time.” Wilbur tried to defend, but he didn’t even sound convinced. 

Tommy sat up. 

“He shouldn’t have had children then.” He said simply once his uninjured hand had found the hem of his shirt, messing with it nervously. What a profound thing for such a young boy to say. 

“I would agree with you but I’m afraid he’d sick Techno on me.” Wilbur giggled softly to himself. 

“Oh, Wilbur,” Tommy said, feigning a dramatic persona, “father would never have the Blade lay a finger on his precious son. Who would there be to play sad songs for him while he neglects his fatherly duties?” Tommy almost couldn’t continue, joining Wilbur with a wild fit of giggles at his own words. He joked, but there was an element of truth. Philza loved Techno, he tolerated Wilbur, and he didn’t like Tommy. 

“Oh, the middle son, cursed to a life of being merely adequate in his father’s eyes.” Wilbur lamented, imitating Tommy’s dramatism. 

“At least dad doesn’t despise the fact that you exist.” Tommy said matter of factly, reaching out to flick the delicately sewn red beanie off of Wilbur’s head. Another laugh erupted from his throat at the startled sound Wilbur made in surprise as he grabbed the hat and smacked his brother’s hand away. 

“I’d rather be liked or disliked then just… I don’t even know. He shows little to no sentiment to me.” He thought for a second. “I exist to him, but that’s it.” His hands found Tommy’s bandaged one again, subconsciously. “I’m not sure if he’d be sad or not if I died.” Wilbur’s eyes were wide. Oh dear. 

Tommy knew that look, that look reserved for when Wilbur was about to fall down a very slippery hill of intense thoughts that Tommy couldn’t understand, and as he got older, he never really wanted to understand. 

“Wilbur, look at me.” Tommy said firmly, flipping his hand around to grab the one messing with it. His brother looked up at him, a look that Tommy couldn’t identify glowing behind his eyes. “You’re more of a father to me than Philza ever will be,” he said gently, “and if you’re ever worried about no one being sad when you kick the ye old bucket, I can assure you that the day you die will be the day I do too.” He tried to keep a light hearted yet firm cadence, but Wilbur had started to smile, and huff a laugh or two at Tommy’s ridiculous words, and the younger couldn’t help but reflect the feeling. 

“I love you, Tommy. I hope you decide that even if I do die, it’s worth it to go on.” 

“Aww, Wilby, you’re making me get all soft and shit, we don’t even have to worry about that happening for a super long time.” Tommy scoffed. “But I love you too,” He trailed off, a devilish smirk appearing on his face, “I guess.”, 

“You are such a stupid little child.” Wilbur said incredulously, roughly tousling Tommy’s tangled hair.

“Alright, old man, and you’ll be stuck with me til the end of time.” Tommy grabbed Wilbur’s hand out of his hair and threw it back at him, attempting to hit him in the face with his own fist. 

~~~

Two years. 

“A super long time” was not only two years. 

That was the only thing running through Tommy’s mind as he clutched Wilbur close to him. He was limp. He wasn’t moving. 

It had been so long, he couldn’t even tell whose blood was whose.

“Wilby, please.” Tommy whispered, tears stinging the corners of his eyes and that familiar, painful ball forming in his throat. “I said you’d be stuck with me til the end of time, you bastard, stick with me.” 

The sounds of screams and distant explosions around him were no match for the screams coming from his own heart. He couldn’t even move. 

Wilbur’s cold, lifeless brown eyes stared up at the sky, and Tommy could see the clouds reflecting in them. He had pointed those same clouds out to Tommy earlier that day, lamenting about how sad it was that the sky was so beautiful on such a treacherous day.

Tommy lifted a shaky hand, the one that he’d cut all those years ago, and rested it on Wilbur’s cheek, his thumb wiping gently at the dirt and the blood. 

Their own father. 

How could he do this to his own son?

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there on his knees with Wilbur held close to him, but his shirt was soaked through with his brother’s blood, and the sun had sunk dangerously low into the horizon. 

He really couldn’t even bring himself to care, just resting his forehead against Wilbur’s, ignoring the fact that his tears were running down his brother’s face. 

It was probably an hour before a hand gripped his shoulder gently. He hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching, and the poor boy startled so bad that he smacked the back of his head against the chest plate of the person standing behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Tubbo.

He had definitely been crying, Tommy could tell by how quiet he spoke and how often his voice went out.

“You’re fine, Tubso.” 

Tense silence flowed between them. 

“Can we go back to yours, Tommy? Techno told me that he’d take care of Wilbur.” God the boy sounded wrecked. “I believe him, and I don’t even know why.” 

Tommy didn’t answer, but Tubbo noticed him squeezing the body of his brother closer to him. 

“Tommy, I know that-”

“I know you do, Tubbo. Just…” The silence was deafening. “Just give me one more second.” 

Surprisingly enough, after a few seconds, Tommy let Wilbur slide out of his arms. Tubbo had to look away, not being able to handle the sight of the gaping wound splitting through Wilbur’s midsection. Their world was overflowing with blood and he just couldn’t stand to see it anymore.

Tommy lifted two fingers to close Wilbur’s eyes, pulling a cornflower out of his bag with his other hand. He laid it gently on Wilbur’s chest, hoping that Techno would leave it there. 

Why were they trusting Techno again? He was the cause of this was he not? 

Well, no.

He really wasn’t. 

But Tommy didn’t want to think about the fact that his brother had caused the destruction around them. 

Techno and Wilbur had been allies during this war, and he guessed that’s why he trusted him. 

And, after all, Wilbur was Techno’s brother, too.

Tubbo and Tommy limped back to Tommy’s little hut in the mountain, finally able to escape the wreckage of L’manberg. 

L’manberg. 

The country they were in charge of now. 

Once the two were safely inside Tommy’s house, they collapsed into a hug that didn’t end. They would tend to their wounds in the morning, and deal with their newfound political positions of a nation that was barely there tomorrow. 

For now, they just laid on a blanket (that Tommy had pulled off of some random bed) on the floor and held tightly onto one another. 

Tommy distantly found gratitude in the fact that he still had his brother Tubbo, and then he fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually am super proud of this and I hope y'all like it !!


End file.
